Megan & Mom Get Busted

I’m a pretty lucky guy, one of the few who actually enjoys their job. My name’s Dougray, and I’m a twenty three year-old police constable, or cop if you like, serving my great country in the beautiful, remote Highlands of Scotland, usually on road patrol. It’s an easy number, most of the time I just park up somewhere quiet with the speed radar on and maybe pull some poor soul over for speeding offences about once every two hours and give them a ticket. Mainly, I’m sat in the car either reading a book or winning money by playing internet poker from my lap-top. That’s if I’m not getting a free meal at a local café, having a pint of beer in the back room of a pub or visiting a female ‘friend’ who’s husband or boyfriend may be at work or out with his friends. Yes, life really is that tough up here in the high country.

The only thing I don’t like is working the overnight ten to six shift. You can’t get a free beer after about twelve o’clock! Still, sometimes there are compensations, occasionally glorious ones. The following is an account of one such summer night.

It was about eleven o’clock. I had just set up the radar on a back road and was now busy drinking coffee from a flask and reading the latest Irvine Welsh novel, musing how well he seems to understand those Scottish male traits of casual racism, alcohol abuse and petty corruption, when I was rudely interrupted as the old red trip light came on. A large Range Rover slipped by, about twenty miles-per-hour faster than it should have. I slung the coffee out of the window, dropped the book and went after it; sirens blazing. Oh, how I love that sound.

I chased it down quickly and as the car pulled over I parked in front of it. I called and checked on the registration plate – It was a rented vehicle – then walked across to it, hand on my Tazer gun; well, you never know what might kick-off these days, and I’ve never used it on anyone yet, which surely is a shame.

There were two figures in the front of the vehicle. The driver’s window came down and an interior light came on. A worried female voice with a sort of Mid-American accent spoke.

“Is there some kind of a problem here officer sir?”

I looked at her face; she was an attractive early middle-aged woman with large, vivid green eyes, sensuous full lips and thick, wavy brown hair. I felt a slight knot in my stomach and my eyebrows raised a touch.

“Oh, no, there’s no big problem here Mam,” I replied, trying to hide the mild excitement a good-looking woman somehow always induces in me. “You were, however, going fifty miles-per-hour in a thirty zone. I may have to give you a speeding ticket.”

A different, younger sounding, female voice now spoke, this time from the front passenger seat.

“Jeez Mom, Dad’s gonna be real pissed if there’s another fine to pay!”

I leaned down further and looked across at her. WOW, what a beauty! This was one seriously fine looking young woman, maybe in her late teens. She had long straight blond hair with a few strawberry streaks, plenty of make-up and a narrower, more defined face than her ‘Mom,’ but the full lips and mischievous, enchanting green eyes were just the same. She looked to have a nice slim figure with all the curves in the right places too. I felt a slight thickening at the front of my trousers.

“Can you both step out of the car please and show me some i.d.”

“Oh, yes sir,” Mom replied, laying on the probably fake respect just a little too much for it to ring true. Then they both got out and stood passively. Mom was quite full-figured; she was wearing a long, ankle length conservative light red and yellow floral dress. Her daughter was wearing tight jeans and a belly top. Her perky boobs stuck out high and proud and her ass was tight and perfect; like two little round peaches. I began questioning them, just to get as much information as I could for personal rather than professional reasons. My curiosity was aroused, so the speak.

Mom was still in a polite, co-operative frame of mind. “My name’s Mrs Lisa Liebesperma, and this is my daughter Megan sir. We arrived her yesterday. We’re from Des Moines, USA. Megan is a student who is going to start a law degree at University here in beautiful Scotland next month, and my husband and myself are over her helping her to settle in, and to have a vacation in this beautiful land.” She flashed me a big insincere, fawning grin. “We’re staying at the hotel about mile further up this road. My husband went to play golf today and we’ve been in town, and then went to see a band tonight. I’m sorry I was speeding sir, I was in too much of a hurry to get back to my bed. Jet-lag is such a drag.”

I checked and called in their i.ds, which were fine, noting that Megan was nineteen and her Mom forty three. At this point I should have just written out a ticket for a fine and let them go on their way, but what I was actually doing was looking for any excuse to get them back to the police station. I had plans, well hopes, for these two. I asked Mom if she had drunk any alcohol; she said she hadn’t but I breathalysed her anyway. It was negative. They both began to get a bit restless, impatient to get away.

“I’ll just check your bags ladies and then you can be on your way,” I told them.

This seemed to annoy Megan. “Can’t you just let us go; there’s no need for this is there?”

I ignored her and checked their bags on the car bonnet. My torch revealed that Mom’s bag had nothing other than the ordinary, but Megan’s… well, well, well. Inside a cigarette packet were four hand-rolled joints and a few pills, probably Ecstasy. I smiled to myself, this was getting better. The joints would have only got her a caution, but the Ecstasy, well that was another matter. She was in trouble and she new it. I held the packet open and showed both women the contents.

Megan shouted out in a panicked voice: “Mom, they’re not mine, honestly Mom, I don’t know what they are or what they’re doing there!”

“Jeez Megan,” her Mom snapped back in a furious voice, “You stupid little bitch!”

“Ok,” I said, “You two are coming with me, I’m arresting you on suspicion of illegal possession of grades one and three narcotics.”

I turned Megan around and cuffed her wrists. Her Mom loudly protested that this was not necessary. I cuffed her too and led them to the rear of my patrol car. “Mind your heads,” I said, almost laughing as I shoved them into the seats.

I called the station to say I was bringing two ‘suspects’ in. There was only the sergeant, old Billy, on duty there. The ten minute drive was hilarious, with Mom verbally slaughtering Megan about the dangers of drugs, breaking the law, messing with the wrong boys, the shame she was bringing on them, etc etc.